


Me too, you fuck.

by chasingorbits



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x18 coda, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27489559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingorbits/pseuds/chasingorbits
Summary: 15x18 coda inspired bythis promo picfrom 15x19.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 141





	Me too, you fuck.

"You're lucky." 

Sam turns confused eyes on Dean. "What?"

"Whatever happened to Eileen, at least she knew you loved her," he explains, taking a swig of his beer. "So yeah, you're lucky."

Dean doesn't need to look to know Sam is giving him one of those stares he hates. It feels like a physical weight on the side of his face. He keeps his eyes low, fixed on the beer bottle between his hands, words on the label coming together in a blur.

"Dean, Cas knew.” 

"How?" he asks, barely above a whisper. "How could he possibly know, Sam?" His voice breaks around the question, everything he managed to keep at bay bubbling to the surface now that they’re back home. Back where Cas died. "I’ve said things to him that I—" 

_Without your powers you’re basically just a baby in a trenchcoat._

_Nobody cares that you’re broken, Cas._

_Why does that ‘something’ always seem to be you?_

_You're dead to me._

The words play over and over in a constant, maddening loop, impossibly worse than when he had an archangel banging in his head, never allowed a moment of peace. 

"He didn't know, Sam—he _couldn't_ know,” he says, desperation seeping through every syllable, tears flowing freely now. He vaguely feels his brother’s hand on his left shoulder, and that almost makes it _worse._ “He’s gone forever, and I'll never get the chance to say it back.”

As it turns out, Dean does get the chance. 

He scans the vast field where Chuck just met his end, a large patch of previously bright green grass now turned to embers. 

Like a phoenix, they all rise from his ashes, materializing just as easily as they had vanished.

Parents hug their children. Friends laugh with each other. Sam holds Eileen's face in his hands, beaming like the freaking sun. Charlie clings to Stevie like her life depends on it, fingers curled in her shirt as if to keep her pinned to Earth by sheer power of will.

Dean should be happy. His friends are back. The love of his brother's life is back. There's no Chuck, no Amara, and gone with them is every last trace of the supernatural in the world. _Balance._

Dean should be happy, because for the first time, they finally have a real shot at normal. Except for him, normal is a black hole in his chest growing bigger every second as it feeds on his life force.

Maybe now, with Eileen back and nothing left to kill, Sam can finally follow through with his promise to let him go. And Dean _will_ go - he has to. He can't stick around and make everyone as miserable and hopeless as he feels. He can’t spoil his little brother's one chance at happiness.

He starts toward his car, no clear destination in mind - maybe a bar stool, maybe the bottom of a river. He doesn't care.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean doesn’t turn around. He just stands there, head low, shoulders drawn up in a tense line. He doesn’t— _can’t_ let himself hope. This wouldn’t be the first time his mind played tricks on him. 

But then, he hears steps around him, and past the tears welling up in his eyes, there’s that one shade of blue that’s haunted his every thought ever since it was taken away. 

Cas looks Dean over as if to make sure _he_ is in one piece, and how fucking _absurd_ is that?

"You're probably wondering how I managed to escape," Castiel finally says, and he couldn’t be more wrong. Dean’s not ‘wondering’ anything. He’s barely even thinking. "Chuck and Amara’s destruction sent an awesome shockwave across dimensions. The Empty was destabilized, and I was able to—"

Dean stops him, because he doesn't care. He doesn't care how, he doesn't care when, doesn't even care about all the people watching as he steps forward to shut the stupid son of a bitch up with his lips.

"Me too," he breathes against him, hands roaming his face, his hair, his chest, trying to make sure he’s really here, solid and real. "God, Cas, me too. I love you too, _you fuck._ "

"Careful,” Castiel says, smiling wider and brighter than Dean’s ever seen him. “You shouldn’t make me too happy.”


End file.
